Page 105 of Bratva's Vow
“But you know what would be more romantic?” I gave him a wink. “If you cooked it yourself.”
He gave me a look. “Don’t push it, brat. Be a good boy and do what I say. Go back to bed.”
I giggled and pressed a quick kiss to his neck, then spun on my heel and scampered out of the kitchen. “I’m going to pretend to be asleep! Bring it up!”
His laughter followed me up the stairs, rich and low.
I threw myself back into the bed dramatically, fluffing the pillows and snuggling beneath the covers like a pampered prince. I sure felt like one. When the door creaked softly afew minutes later, I kept my eyes closed and let out a theatrical little snore.
“Really?” Maxim’s voice drawled. “You’re not even going totryto be convincing?”
I opened one eye. “You promised breakfast in bed. I’m setting the scene.”
He shook his head, smiling as he set the tray down—complete with croissants, scrambled eggs, perfectly crisped bacon, and two steaming cups of coffee. Everything smelled sinfully good.
“Damn.” My stomach growled. “I’m actually starving after that sex marathon.”
“Of course you are. I stood on business last night.”
“Well, don’t be so smug about it.” I picked up a piece of bacon. “But yeah, you did handle your shit.”
We ate slowly, feeding each other bites, laughing when a crumb caught on my lip or when I spilled a drop of jam on his bare chest and licked it off. It was so disgustingly domestic that it made my chest ache in the best way.
“How are you feeling?” he asked after a while, brushing a thumb across my jaw.
“Sore,” I admitted with a grin. “But like… the good kind of sore.”
He chuckled. “Think you’d be up for going out later today?”
“Depends. If it doesn’t require a whole lot of walking. I can feel my butthole with every step I take.” I plucked a piece of croissant from his hand. “What are you smiling about?”
“The way you talk about our sex life makes a man feel ten feet tall.” He leaned over to kiss my cheek. “Okay, how about we see how you feel later? If you’re up to it, I’ll take you out for dinner.”
“That sounds good.”
“Any particular restaurant in mind?”
“Nope. Since there’s no chance of sex tonight, I can eat whatever I want. You’ll find the best place for us. I trust you.”
Maxim stilled for half a second.
Just enough for me to see the flicker in his eyes—surprise, softness, something raw he didn’t usually let surface.
He gently took my hand in his and lifted it between us. My heart tripped seeing the bracelet. I hadn’t noticed him wearing it until last night, and it’d healed something inside me.
Maxim pressed a slow kiss to the back of my hand. Not playful. Not teasing.
Sincere.
“Wren,” he said my name softly. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you, finding out the truth about what I am, about your father. I swear on my life that I’ll never let you down. Not ever.”
I stared at him, barely breathing.
My voice came out quiet, almost unsure. “You really do love me… don’t you?”
His eyes softened. “With everything I am. With every dark, broken piece of me. Loving you feels like the only good thing I’ve ever done right.”
Something in my chest stuttered. I blinked fast, struggling to hold his gaze through the knot forming in my throat.
